


Bare

by skargasm



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:18:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: It had been hard to understand his jealousy....





	

**Author's Note:**

> Songfic - [The Cure – Lullaby](http://youtu.be/ijxk-fgcg7c)
> 
> Winner of Best Song Fic and Runner Up for Best Unconventional Couple @ Round 27 of Sunnydale Awards 
> 
> **Graphics:** Created by the awesome foreverbm over on Livejournal
> 
> * * *

  
  


* * *

Bearing in mind it was how they re-met, it was the only cause of argument. But they were some pretty major arguments, with things being thrown, blood being spilled, and rather fantastic make up sex often the result. Still, Spike couldn’t understand what Oz’s objection was. Stripping was a time honoured tradition and it was his impressive performance to ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go?’ complete with pole and leather chaps that had got Oz past his ‘Spike bad – stake now’ to ‘Spike good – stake now’ with something other than the chunk of wood he carried as a matter of course. 

“Don't get it Pup – you know it's purely for the money...”

“And the ego boost.”

“Well yeah – seems a shame not to share such a fine specimen as myself with the masses – but only looking, mind. No one gets to touch but you. You know that, right??” 

Oz merely grunted and Spike had to accept that yet again, he had failed to get across to Oz the complete and utter lack of interest he had in any other patron of the demon club he worked at – he was Oz's, plain and simple. Everyone else just fed his (mammoth according to Angel) ego – Oz was the only one he wanted to cuddle down with, watch soaps, listen to loud music and bring the house down with having epic sex. 

Of course, being Oz, he found a way to make his point that was not only full of win for both of them, but got through to Spike without the need for more bloodshed!

* * *

A rare night off and Spike got the message to meet Oz at Rathkur's – seemed a little strange to go to work for fun, but he was prepared to go with it. The barman gave him a shy smile and passed over a bottle of A neg that he had warmed up just right – it paid to be nice to the staff after all – and Spike turned to watch the stage. A new song started and he cocked an ear, realising it was an oldie that he remembered from years ago – he'd gone to see the band play and had loved them – very dark and sexy.

> > On candystripe legs the spiderman comes  
>  Softly through the shadow of the evening sun  
>  Stealing past the windows of the blissfully dead  
>  Looking for the victim shivering in bed  
>  Searching out fear in the gathering gloom and  
>  Suddenly!  
>  A movement in the corner of the room!  
>  And there is nothing I can do  
>  When I realise with fright  
>  That the spiderman is having me for dinner tonight! 

Very pale, very lean, a body slunk onto the stage and Spike felt every atom of his body shoot to attention. Slinking was the only possible description for the movements on stage – that was most definitely not a human up there, an animalistic grace and menace in every step that was taken. A mask covered the face but the bright white tips of the jet black hair spiked all over a small head were spotlit and Spike was completely mesmerised. He had never seen him like this before and God, had he been missing out.....

Hips undulating, he moved up and down the stage, marking each part of it as his territory. He was wearing leather pants and a scrap of a white vest, his muscles clearly visible as he prowled up and down on bare feet, revving up the audience with a blast of pheromones and the inherent sexiness. Comfortable in his skin and it showed, nothing sexier to the crowd than that confidence in ones' self and one's abilities. The scrap of white material was torn off and chucked into the crowd, snatched from the air by one lucky soul who was close enough and quick enough.

> > Quietly he laughs and shaking his head  
>  Creeps closer now  
>  Closer to the foot of the bed  
>  And softer than shadow and quicker than flies  
>  His arms are all around me and his tongue in my eyes  
>  "Be still be calm be quiet now my precious boy  
>  Don't struggle like that or I will only love you more  
>  For it's much too late to get away or turn on the light  
>  The spiderman is having you for dinner tonight" 

Strutting across the stage the lean body leapt and wrapped itself around the pole, surprisingly long legs gripping it as he flipped himself upside down, the treasure trail on his lower belly revealed to everyone watching as he writhed around, hips moving sinuously as he shifted up and down and around the pole with merely the strength in his legs.

Drink forgotten, Spike licked his lips as the dancer flipped himself from the pole and somersaulted to land in a predatory crouch before dropping gracefully to his front and beginning to crawl his way towards the front of the stage. Spike could see the hands had morphed into claws, those lethal weapons normally concealed by musician's hands. As the body slid closer and closer to the edge of the stage, fur rippled over the skin in waves, demonstrating to every single demon in the room the power the dancer had over his inner beast. Hard won power – years in Tibet studying to be able to call on the wolf when it was wanted or needed – shown off now so casually, intimidating to all but the most stupid who couldn't understand what they were seeing. 

Something that up until now had only rarely been shown and never to others – Spike had wanted it set loose on him in the bedroom but knew how uncomfortable the idea made Oz. But watching it now, Spike knew that a repeat request would be greeted differently now....

The mask stretched and snapped as a muzzle came from the face, fur now spreading all over the body, breaking through clothing, the barest hint of humanity remaining to keep the animal in check. Without realising it, Spike had shoved his way through to the front of the stage so that the werewolf appeared to be dancing just for him. Swaying, muscles rippling along the lean body, Spike was mesmerised, not even flinching when the muzzle was pressed into his neck and he could feel the cold nose snuffling down his torso to his groin. A yipping/chuffing laugh against his waist, claws digging into his side as both hands slid into the tiny space available between skin and his tight jeans to anchor him in place and pull him closer. 

A moan escaped him as a long, rough tongue swept over the skin of his stomach just as the lyrics thrumming from the speakers said:

> > And I feel like I'm being eaten  
>  By a thousand million shivering furry holes  
>  And I know that in the morning I will wake up  
>  In the shivering cold 
>> 
>> And the spiderman is always hungry...  
> 

Spike was aware of the audience behind him, the waves of fear and lust buffeting him from behind as they slowly came to the realisation that he was risking the loss of some pretty vital body parts as he allowed the dancer to rip open his trousers and mouth the soft, tender skin of his belly. And the realisation hit him that he totally didn't want the scummy audience seeing what effect the dancer was having on him. Or, when it came to it, seeing _his_ werewolf looking so freakin' sexy and strutting his stuff for all and sundry. A quick look behind him showed a roomful of fugly horny demons getting off on the way HIS werewolf looked, and morphing to his vamp face he snarled until they all looked away, or at least pretended to. Bloody perverts, they needed to find another way to spend their evenings other than watching people get their clothes off. The world's smallest light bulb went on over his head and he realised what Oz had been going on about all along....

> > (Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly  
>  I have something...)

Shifting his grip to Spike's jeans and without letting go, the dancer growled at him, showing some pretty spectacular canines to Spike's lascivious gaze in the process. Accepting the unspoken direction Spike allowed himself to be dragged onto the stage and to thunderous applause he headed back until the dancer was leading him offstage and towards his own dressing room. By the time he had been dragged into the room and had kicked the door shut behind him, Spike had stripped off his own shirt and was toeing off his boots.

“However sexy you look, you know I can't stand getting fur in me fangs. And point taken – I'll find another way to keep you in kibble. Now get over here you furry little bastard!”

* * *

fin

* * *

* * *


End file.
